


You're Great

by caramel_dixon



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Archery, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-17
Updated: 2014-04-17
Packaged: 2018-01-19 18:00:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1478941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caramel_dixon/pseuds/caramel_dixon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Since the day he’d been shipped off to Winterfell from his homeland, even since the day he’d learned to pick up a sword, Theon Greyjoy has always been good. Good, meaning he’s better at a lot of what Robb does himself. So Robb doesn’t regret at all the day he steps into the archery training yard to advise Theon of a promise he’d made with him a long time ago.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You're Great

**Author's Note:**

> my first GoT piece since i recently got into the fandom again !! uwu  
> i was rushed and it's not that good and it's a first try but i'd still like some encouragement yes that would be cool i'll get better i promise

Since the day he’d been shipped off to Winterfell from his homeland, even since the day he’d learned to pick up a sword, Theon Greyjoy has always been good. Good, meaning he’s better at a lot of what Robb does himself. And Robb is always envious of him. Theon never really strives to be the best, either. It usually just happens to be true. That was what angers Robb the most.

Speaking of Robb, on the other hand, Robb has always been so hell-bent on being good, too. Even decent is fine by him. He has problem-solving and leadership on his side, but he knows he’d do anything for Theon’s combat skills. A leader had to fight well, right? It would make him complete. He’d be a real leader.

So Robb doesn’t regret at all the day he steps into the archery training yard to advise Theon of a promise he’d made with him a long time ago.

“I thought you said you were going to teach me,” Robb denotes from behind him.

With a swift flick of his wrist, the arrow shoots swiftly from Theon’s bow and whistles through the air, hitting the straw target square in its chest with a small ‘puff’ noise.

Theon turns to the supply room to hang his bow. “I thought Cassel was teaching you today.” He hangs the weapon and sets his satchel of arrows on the floor next to it.

Robb leans coolly against the stone walls next to Theon’s training area. “He already did. But I know I’m never going to be as good as you.”

“Oh, I’m not _that_ great,” Theon taunts with a smile. Robb grimaces, his friend’s jaunty demeanor striking him in the chest like a mallet.

“Don’t give me that,” he says firmly, disregarding a laugh from Theon. He catches sight of an extra bow and bag of arrows in the supply room and goes to retrieve them. Picking both up, he brings them back and sets them stubbornly in Theon’s arms with a petulant frown.

Theon stares down at the satchel cluelessly. “What do you want me to do with these?” he sneers with a wicked grin. Robb feels his fists clench at his sides. Theon sets them back in Robb’s arms with a smirk. “The first step in learning how to shoot an arrow is taking an arrow out of the satchel.”

“Oh, shut up,” Robb tries to snap as rudely as he can. But when Theon chuckles to himself, his bright blues gleaming with something like affection, Robb feels the corners of his mouth rise into an involuntary smile.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

“Alright, shut up. Let me do this,” Robb mutters with false determination. He ignores Theon’s caustic snicker from behind him and grabs another arrow from the pouch. He pulls his arm back and remembers to keep his feet apart, the arrow level with his nose. A cool breeze winds through the air. His arms tremble with the absence of reassuring entourage and he bites down hard on his lip, moving the point of the arrow just above the center in his reign of vision, immersed in concentration, a keen eye on the depth of the shot—

“Robb,” Theon sets gloved hands on his arm and shoulder, gently pushing downwards. “Relax your bowarm. Keep it level with the ground. Don’t cock your head so far, either.”

Robb’s arms fall completely in frustration and he frowns again. Theon only smiles. 

“I thought you knew how to do this,” Theon says.

Robb sighs. “Well it’s pretty obvious I don’t, isn’t it?”

“You just need some practice, Robb,” Theon reassures, a teasing smile playing on his lips. 

Robb curses to himself and turns back around. He hesitates for a long while. “Come on, then,” he hears, and Robb’s body is sent into firing, angry shivers. His cheeks have fossilized. His teeth are clenched under pursed lips. He can’t ever handle Theon for too long. Always taunting and teasing and snickering and…being good. Being better. Robb is never the jealous type, yet Theon is always an exception. 

“Haven’t you any guts, Stark?”

“Fuck off!” Robb snarls. Then an arrow whips through the air out of smoky, billowing rage.

And it hits the target straight in its neck.

Robb pauses, unmoving. He stares in shock at the arrow in the straw man’s neck. As Robb’s arms lower, he’s not quite sure what to make of that. He’s in disbelief, his eyes remaining locked on the target; a clean hit, right through the jugular vein. 

Robb turns to Theon, grinning in pride when he finds Theon’s mouth slightly agape, his eyes unblinking. 

Theon’s stunned, because of the good job Robb has done. And Robb has never felt better.

Theon smiles a wide, friendly smile. He runs up to meet Robb in his self-absorbed fantasy, harshly patting his back like all friends did. He laughs, maybe nervously. “Well, fuck me, Robb Stark! I haven’t even done that yet!”

Robb chuckles tiredly, smiling down at Theon with something thankful in his eyes. “Who’s got no guts now?” he taunts, and Theon just begins laughing harder.

“Someday, Robb,” Theon starts, staring blatantly into Robb’s deep blues. Robb smiles. “You’ll be the one to annihilate the Lannisters. It’s proven now,” he jokes.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

They drink to celebrate Robb’s “victory”. Theon really doesn’t think that much of it, but Robb’s face in the heat of the moment gave it all away. This was a victory for Robb. He knows it because Robb’s cheeks flushed and his fists began to clench and unclench the material on his sleeves and a helpless grin crept up on his face. Theon knows all of the Starks smiled when they were embarrassed, or overwhelmed. Everyone who lives in Winterfell knew that for a fact. But Theon thinks he knows Robb better than anyone, his admirable nervous habits especially, and Robb thinks the same about him. That was one.

Two was what Theon did when he was absolutely drunk.

Theon is a laughing drunk. And whenever you get up close you can smell the wine on his breath and feel the vibe of giddiness light on his shoulders. He’s silly and slurry and clumsy, and Robb can’t admit that he isn’t attracted to him that way. …Or any way.

Robb takes an awkward sip of wine. He let his thoughts run a bit too far from him again. He’s hit with a sharp pang of guilt.

He swallows the tangy liquid and looks Theon on the eyes. “When I was a boy,” Robb starts, grinning, his eyes lidded. Theon bites the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling. “Ned always taught me…he taught me to work hard.” He lifts a finger, waiting for a belch to rise from his stomach. Something comes up, but it’s only a small hiccup. It still makes Theon chuckle a bit.

“Ned kept saying to me,” he continues. “ ‘Robb, even if you’re a fat, lazy, good-for-nothing pig sitting atop the Iron Throne with a glass of wine held in your plump little hand, even if you have nothing to live or die for, and even when all your family and friends and power and money and hope is gone, you’ve got to—“ he hiccups. “Promise that you’ll work. Work hard, even if it’s for nothing. And maybe with some effort you’ll get what you lost back.’ ”

Robb laughs half-heartedly, taking another sip of wine. “My father was a good man, Theon,” he says after he’s swallowed. “I don’t believe he was a traitor. He’s smart enough to know what’s right and what’s wrong.”

Theon nodded. “My father…always taught me to take what’s rightfully mine, ‘nd to leave the rest.”

“My father said to take all you can get for the good of your people.”

Theon laughs a slow, deep, drunken laugh. Robb rubs the cuff of his sleeve between two fingers to distract himself. “Typical Stark,” Theon says, then hiccups.

Robb laughs. “And typical Greyjoy to you, sir.”

Theon raises his wine cup and cocks an eyebrow. Robb smiles, holding up his own.

“A toast…I think,” Robb says.

“What for?”

“For, uh…for being friends. For being Robb and for being Theon.” Robb hits his cup against Theon’s with a sharp ‘cling’.

Theon grins, “We thank the gods, the—“ He hiccups again. “The old and the new, for…”

“Wine.”

“Wine, yes,” Theon nods tiredly, and Robb laughs whole-heartedly along with his friend. They gulp down their glasses and give satisfied exhales when they’ve finished.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

 

“Robb…you know what I…what I like about you…?”

Theon has moved to the other side of the room and is now seated next to Robb on the bed, legs touching, shoulders brushing up against each other. The heat of Theon’s wine-tainted breath feathered Robb’s neck. Robb bites his lip in a helpless attempt to ignore it but he knows his cheeks are flushed and his eyes are lidded and he’s holding back a gasp of arousal.

Robb sighs, “What, Greyjoy?”

“I like…that you’re…” Theon rests his head on Robb’s shoulder. “That you’re Robb.”

Said Robb gulps and tugs nervously at the collar of his shirt. “…What do you mean?”

“You’re just…great. Everything about you.”

Robb’s heart is racing at a million miles an hour, and it’s speeding up. He should’ve known the consequences of an intoxicated Theon Greyjoy. He gets giggly and clingy, coming down from a high. Robb is guessing those two aren’t a good match. Theon’s bound to hit on any other person he sees and this time the victim is Robb.

“You’re great, too, Theon,” Robb exhales a wavering breath he hadn’t realized he held. “You’re great, too.”

Theon picks up Robb’s hand and locks his fingers between his. He has a giddy smile playing on his lips, and Robb knows it’s just the little remaining drops of alcohol talking but he also knows that he’s going to kick himself later on if he doesn’t play along now. And if he does. Robb tightens his fingers around Theon’s anyway and flushes a deep red when Theon’s smile grows wider yet.

“I like you, Robb. I really like you.”

It’s like he’s trying to make Robb kiss him. Drawing him in ever closer until Robb gives in and Theon could have his good laugh. “What a damn idiot you are, Robb”, he’d say. A vile pit of anxiety bubbles in Robb’s stomach at the thought.

Theon’s thumb rubs Robb’s hand gently, stroking back and forth, and he hums softly to himself. Robb barely makes out what he’s singing:

_“And so he spoke, and so he spoke, that Lord of Castameeere…”_

He’s so calm, so content around Robb, and having company made Robb feel important and recognized. Robb has always taken small things too harshly, or too meaningfully. He knows Theon caught onto that at some point. Now here they are.

_“And now the rains we-ep o’er his halls with no one there to heaar…”_

As Theon nuzzles into Robb’s neck, Robb is unsure of what to think. He was in an arousal-induced daze, trying to grasp what was fantasy and what was reality. He reached incessantly for reality but found it to be of no use. 

But honestly, he’s never been more wrong about something in such a wonderful way.

_“Yes, now the rains we-ep o’er his halls, and not a so-o-oul to hear…”_

Robb lifts a hand to Theon’s cheek and gazes aversely into his teal eyes, watching as his smile crept higher with delight. He cursed, “Seven hells…”

And with remorseful elation, Robb closed the space between their lips.

The kiss was evasive but bound with passion, and Robb thinks that Theon is okay with it. A short moment in time where the only two people in Westeros were the ones pulling at each other’s hair and pushing their bodies together as close as possible, looking for as much of each other as they could find. Sloppy, yet graceful. Innocent, yet lust-crazed. Robb thinks he likes it that way.

And when they break apart, Theon begins laughing, hard. Genuine laughter, not coated with alcohol and giddiness. Robb becomes very uncertainand he feels like he's just been kicked in the gut. 

Theon calms, smiling, looking his friend up and down with felicity. “You really are a fool, Robb,” he says. Robb’s heart leaps over itself and a ripple of guilt runs through him.

Theon smiles and presses his lips to Robb’s once more. Robb is relieved of regrets and melts into it, frowning when he pulls away softly. 

“You’re a fool,” he says. “…But you’re a damn great one.”


End file.
